


Familiar

by Mntsnflrs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Separation Anxiety, Slice of Life, just boyfriends loving each other, this is really soft dont listen to the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mntsnflrs/pseuds/Mntsnflrs
Summary: As ridiculous as his bed hair is, it’s calming to look at when Ten can’t sleep. Johnny is an oddly reaffirming lump under their sheets, and just looking at him for a silent moment can calm Ten’s panicked breathing.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Seo Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 51
Kudos: 686





	Familiar

Johnny always looks so ridiculous when he sleeps. There’s no dignity in the way he wraps himself into a tight ball, face mushed between his pillow and his shoulder, hair everywhere, long legs tucked to his chest. He looks innocent, oddly so for a twenty four year old man that frequently leaves his dirty laundry behind the bedroom door in an attempt to hide it.

He looks kind in sleep, even kinder than he does awake, if it’s possible. Like nothing in the world could scratch his quiet confidence, like he’s waiting excitedly until he can wake up and start smiling again.

As ridiculous as his bed hair is, it’s calming to look at when Ten can’t sleep. Johnny is an oddly reaffirming lump under their sheets, and just looking at him for a silent moment can calm Ten’s panicked breathing.

Still – as calming as Johnny’s presence is, Ten doesn’t want to disturb his sleep, so with as little movement as possible he inches his way out of the sheets, wincing whenever the old mattress groans with the shifting springs, but Johnny doesn’t so much as twitch, which Ten takes as a relieving victory.

He pads through to their small kitchen and boils the kettle, fishing about in the dark for his green tea, going more by sense than sight and moonlight.

Johnny always frowns at him for this – handling boiling water in the dark isn’t a sensible thing to do, and Ten agrees, he knows it’s stupid, but it’s also habit. He’s done it as long as he can remember, while he lived alone and then before that when he lived with his parents. It’s comforting to wake from a nightmare and retrace his steps through his home, fingers grazing over familiar furniture, the back of the threadbare couch, the edge of their hideous freestanding lamp, the chipped countertop, Johnny’s favourite embarrassing mug that he leaves out like some kind of Lionel Richie shrine offering to the tea gods.

He knows that one day he’ll stub his toe or knock over the lamp or burn himself, but until that day, he’s going to walk the small apartment in the dark, and he’s going to have his green tea in the kitchen with the lights off, the moon bright through the small window, Johnny a ridiculous lump asleep in their bed.

It’s too hot when he sips his tea, so hot that his tongue throbs, but that’s comforting in its own way too. A little bit of pain reminds Ten that he’s still here, not trapped in his subconscious where everything is falling apart. He smiles against the rim of his mug, knowing that Johnny would frown at him for that, too. Johnny doesn’t like it when he hurts himself, intentionally or otherwise.

There’s a shift of light outside of the kitchen window, a sliver of glow that’s gone as quickly as it had arrived. Doyoung.

Ten pushes away from the counter, mug still in hand, and slips into his sandals, picking up the spare key to the apartment and locking the door behind him. Their apartment building isn’t nice, but it isn’t big, either. Everyone knows everyone, and with only two apartments on each floor with a single shared balcony between them, there’s only one person it could be leaning against the railing at three in the morning on a Wednesday.

Doyoung doesn’t look up when Ten steps out. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Nightmare?”

Ten joins him against the railing, facing backwards. While Doyoung stares down at the balconies below, Ten looks back at the walls of his apartment and the dark windows, then at Doyoung’s home, a mirror of his own but with every room ablaze. “Something like a nightmare, yeah,” he murmurs. “Why’re all your lights on?”

“We’re arguing again,” Doyoung says. He looks tired, more tired than Ten feels, more tired than anyone in their twenties should. He looks like exhaustion is grinding his bones down, like soon all that’ll be left his dust.

“What about?”

“I want him to move out. He wants me to move out.”

Ten would have choked on his tea if he’d been sipping it. Doyoung’s boyfriend is illusive and unpleasant, driven to the point of rudeness, where Doyoung is driven to the point of begrudging kindness. “You can’t move out,” Ten finds himself saying in a small voice. “Who’d keep me company on the balcony when I have nightmares?”

Doyoung snorts. He sees the _‘please don’t go’_ where it’s unsaid. “I’m on the lease, not him. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh,” Ten breathes. “Good.”

“Yeah. He’s packing his things now. I told him he could wait until the morning, but he said he’s rather sleep in his car than beside a frigid bitch like me for another night.” Doyoung’s smile is brittle. “I can’t afford the rent on my own, I’m going to have to make my office into a spare room and look for someone who needs a place to live. Goodbye to my privacy.”

“Goodbye to a boyfriend that treats you like shit,” Ten says hotly. “Do you want me to go back with you and wait until he leaves?”

Doyoung smiles slightly. “No, thank you. He’s almost done, if you look through the bedroom window you can see him ripping up the photos from our holiday last summer. He’d only do that if he’s already packed away his ties.”

“Corporate piece of garbage,” Ten says.

Doyoung hums. “I should have known better than to trust someone that believes in the trickle down economy system. Capitalist pig.”

It’s said without heat, without upset – without anything, really. It’s not like Doyoung, who uses any opportunity to complain or chastise. Neutral isn’t his favoured tone.

“You can be sad, you know,” Ten says. He picks at the hem of his shorts, where the thread is starting to tickle his thigh. It’s not so cold outside that he needs a jacket, but maybe next time he should remember to bring socks. His toes are chilly.

Doyoung stares at his apartment. “I’m not sad,” he says. “I’m angry. Furious, really. Every time I think I’ve found someone worthwhile they lie, cheat, bluster their way out of loving me. Is it really that hard? Am I so terrible that all I deserve is the smell of a woman’s perfume on the lips I kiss every night?”

“Of course not,” Ten says. Before he can continue, Doyoung smiles. He smiles brightly, so wide that it’s kind of scary.

“I know,” he says. “Which is why I’ve sworn off men forever. I’m done. The sex wasn’t even good, he never paid for our meals out, he didn’t want to celebrate Valentine ’s Day or Christmas or my _birthday_ – what was I getting out of the relationship? More dishes to wash? Someone else’s hair clogging the drain? My dick sucked unenthusiastically twice a month? I’d rather be alone.”

Ten wants to argue, but he kind of... doesn’t know how. “I think you’re better off alone than with someone like that,” he says carefully, “But not every guy is shit to that extent.”

Doyoung’s smile dims. “You’ve found your Johnny,” he says quietly. “But I don’t think I’ll ever find mine.”

“Johnny isn’t perfect.”

“I know that, I’ve heard you arguing before.” He looks at Ten. “I’d be mad if my boyfriend hid his laundry behind the door too. The difference being that Johnny genuinely loves you. He’s with you because he wants to be, not because it’s convenient or expected. He just loves you.”

Ten feels his cheeks warm. He knows he’s lucky, maybe the luckiest person alive, but to hear it put so plainly sits oddly in his stomach. “Doyoung,” he says, searching his friend’s eyes. There’s no self pity there, no woe is me, I want what you have – there’s just exhaustion. “It took me a long time to find Johnny. It took me a long time to let myself be happy with someone that felt right.”

“Oh, I know!” Doyoung says hastily. “I didn’t mean to undermine or dismiss your struggles, I just meant...” he gestures at his apartment, the lights on, clothes flying around. “I think I want what you have or nothing at all. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to settle.”

“Good for you,” Ten says. “I’m sorry it’s come to this but maybe putting your foot down like this will be a positive first step. I want you to be happy.”

“I do too.” Doyoung’s smile returns, faint but rueful. “If you tell anyone about this I’ll cut your sly little tongue out.”

“You’d deprive Johnny of getting his ass eaten?”

Doyoung groans and shoves Ten’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go back in,” he says with a sigh. “Face the music; chase the rodent out of my home. You should go back to bed too. Maybe tell Johnny that you dream about him leaving you every night so that he can reassure you or something. Just a suggestion.”

Ten scowls. “Fuck you. I’d go to Kun if I wanted advice.”

“He’d say exactly the same thing.”

“Which is why I haven’t asked.”

“Which is why I said it anyway.” Doyoung shoves him again and opens the balcony door. “Goodnight, Ten.”

He doesn’t want to let Doyoung go back to his apartment alone, but there isn’t much he can do. It isn’t his home, his relationship, or his business. “Just like, scream if you need me, okay? I’ll come over.”

“I know.” Doyoung smiles. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Ten says, watching Doyoung retreat inside.

He waits around outside a little longer, half because it’s nice to feel the cool air against his face, and half because he’s waiting to see if Doyoung will start throwing things and need an intervention. When nothing happens in the apartment, and one by one the lights turn off, Ten turns around and looks out at the city, paying attention to the view he’d ignored to this point.

It’s not a particularly pretty view, just office buildings and other apartments with small balconies and smaller windows, but it’s nice. Another familiarity he needs. The railing is solid beneath his hands, cold, chipped metal that tingles against his palms. The sky is cloudy, but the moon peeks through. How many nights has he come out here, rain or cloudless skies, just to stare at the horizon and hope for familiarities to stay familiar?

The wind picks up and he shivers, knowing it’s time to go back inside.

He steps through the apartment door, locking it behind him as he toes off his shoes and dumps the keys in the bowl Johnny made out of sculpting clay. He dumps his mug in the sink and makes his way back to bed, sighing when he sees Johnny is in exactly the same position as he had been when Ten had left.

The sheets are warm when he climbs in, and despite the green tea, he feels more sleepy now than he had when he’d first woken, panicked and vulnerable.

Johnny grunts and shifts, arms reaching out to gather Ten to his chest. “You were gone longer than usual.”

Ten’s first instinct is to run away, but he likes to think he’s matured enough to the point where he doesn’t just sprint away from his problems head first. He laughs instead, uneasy, trying to pretend his heart isn’t thudding in his throat. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I always feel it when you leave.”

“Oh,” he says. Johnny is big and warm, and he smells like fabric softener and sleep. It shouldn’t be nice, but Ten’s heart beats _familiar familiar familiar_, and Johnny is more home than the old couch, shitty lamp, or cold balcony.

“Do you want to talk about it? I was gonna wait until you brought it up to me, but you were gone for ages this time and I got a little worried. We don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know.”

Ten turns in Johnny’s grip, pressing his cold nose against Johnny’s neck, seeping warmth out of him. Johnny’s hold tightens, and Ten tries not to melt. “I’ve always done it,” he mumbles. “When I wake up from a nightmare I have green tea in the dark. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s familiar and I need that.”

“It sounds like you’ve been having a lot of nightmares.”

He nods.

“Wanna tell me what they’re about?”

He shakes his head and feels Johnny sigh.

“Are they something to do with us?”

He stiffens. “Johnny...”

“If there’s something I can do to help you sleep easier, I want to know.”

He presses his lips together. “D’you remember when we met and I wouldn’t let you sleep with me for like three months? When I sent you home after sex every single time, no matter how tired you were? And you got mad at me, like that was our first real argument, right? Because I came to your apartment and tried to walk home in the middle of the night while it was snowing and you couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to stay over?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Johnny rubs slow circles over Ten’s back, calming and so blessedly warm.

“D’you remember why I did that? What I told you?”

“Yeah, baby. You said it was easier to convince yourself that you weren’t vulnerable if you never got used to sleeping with someone.”

He nods. “It still hits me sometimes, you know? That you’re here. That you sleep beside me and live with me and eat dinner with me and love me. And then sometimes when I’m asleep it’s like – I dream about being alone again. Alone was fine before you, but I don’t think I’d be okay with it anymore. I don’t think I can go back to sleeping alone.”

Johnny tightens his grip and before Ten realises what’s happening, he’s being rolled over until he’s laid atop Johnny’s chest as Johnny shuffles his way up the bed until he’s sitting, Ten in his lap. The light from the window is dim, but it’s enough to see Johnny’s ridiculous hair, his eyes, his sweet, silly smile. “Baby,” he says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ten’s lower lip trembles. “I know,” he says. “It’s just hard to remember sometimes. My dreams have never been kind to me.”

“There’s some things I can’t help with,” Johnny says, rubbing his hands up and down Ten’s arms. “I do my best, honey, but I can’t beat up your dreams for you. Maybe you should see a specialist.”

Ten’s smile is wobbly and self depreciating. “You mean see a therapist about my abandonment issues?”

“Yeah. I can wait in the parking lot and we can go for chicken wings after each appointment, make a date out of it.”

And the thing about Johnny that always knocks Ten off his feet is how utterly earnest he is. There’s no mockery or teasing in his words, just acceptance. He woke up at three in the morning, and there isn’t a speck of frustration or anger or unhappiness – he just wants Ten to have sweet dreams.

“I love you,” Ten says. “I love you so much.”

Johnny smiles. “I love you too. We can discuss it in the morning, if you like. For now I could do with another couple of hours, what about you? Think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah,” Ten says. “I think so.”

“If you wake up just poke me,” Johnny says, rolling them back over. “I’ll stay awake with you, as long as you need.” He cuddles Ten close, peppering kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and then finally his lips. Ten sighs and opens his mouth, eyes closing as the kiss deepens into something slow and wet and beautifully familiar. They’re too tired for anything more, but kissing is in itself a pleasure Ten has yet to grow bored with. Maybe with Johnny it’ll never get boring.

He finally pulls away when he feels Johnny’s grip start to loosen, smiling against his mouth. “You need to go back to sleep, Johnny.”

Johnny hums, kissing Ten again. “I heard voices earlier. Is Doyoung okay?”

Ten burrows into his neck again, content. “He’ll be fine. The weird boyfriend is moving out.”

Johnny makes a gentle _whoop!_ noise and Ten giggles.

“He’s gonna need a roommate to afford the lease though.”

“We can sort that.”

“We can?”

“Yuta needs a place to stay while he’s in the country.”

Ten laughs again, delighted by the thought. “Doyoung would throw him out of the window within the first week.”

“Or they’d have fiery hate sex and fall in love.”

“Not everything happens like that, babe.”

“I know. I loved you from first sight.”

Ten kisses him again, just because he can. “Go to sleep, you cornball.”

“Okay,” Johnny mumbles, leaning forward to steal one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Ten says. The words feel familiar now. How wonderful.

-

When he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, Johnny has already made him tea, sliding the mug over in exchange for a kiss. “Good morning,” he says to Ten. “I gave you my special mug, since you’re my special baby and I love you.”

Ten looks down at the Lionel Richie mug. _Is it tea you’re looking for?_ He sighs, but Johnny’s hopeful smile is too sweet for Ten to crush. “Thank you,” he says, leaning up for another kiss. “I love it.”

Johnny glows in the morning sun, and it’s beautifully familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks keep me going! Ty to everyone for reading and I hope you enjoyed! xo


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